


Alone Together

by TheoMiller



Category: Knight & Rogue - Hilari Bell
Genre: Coming of Age, M/M, POV First Person, technically underage but yknow by like 12 hours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 18:33:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2742743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheoMiller/pseuds/TheoMiller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fisk's turning eighteen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone Together

**Author's Note:**

> #56: rites of passage / coming of age (From Trope Bingo)  
> and, yes, that title is a reference to the FOB song.

“What do you want to do for your age-day?” Michael asked, out of the blue. We were three days out of Ruesport, and still trying to decide where to go now.

I spent a moment trying to figure out what thought process of his prompted this, came to the all-too-frequent conclusion that Michael is insane, and then actually focused on the question. “Uh… Wait, how do you know my age-day is coming up soon?”

Michael didn’t know I was seventeen, as far as I’d known, let alone that my age-day would be coming within the week. Then, “Judith,” I growled.

“Actually, ‘twas Anna,” said Michael, grinning at me. “But that’s not the point. I know ‘tis not traditional to celebrate the passing of each year in families such as yours, but even townsmen celebrate their age-day. You must have _something_ you want to do.”

“I’ve pretended to be coming of age a few times, for cons,” I said. Usually, mentions of my criminal past could distract Michael.

“That’s not the _same_ ,” Michael half-whined.

I rolled my eyes at him. “What did you do, then?”

“Well, I wasn’t home for my age-day. But when my brothers came of age, we always had a feast with the neighboring families. Rosamund danced me at Benton’s,” he added in a fond voice.

I resisted the urge to kick him out of his love-struck reverie. “What did you do on the road – visit a brothel?” I asked.

He squeaked and flailed a bit, turning red. “I—no, no, that. I wasn’t interested in that.”

“ _Really_ ,” I said, and smirked when the slight flush turned into holly-red tint on his cheeks and ears, probably spreading to the back of his neck. “Isn’t that traditional for lords’ sons, when you reach fourteen? I’m surprised your father never dropped you off at a brothel and told you to—oh, he _did_ , didn’t he?”

“Fuck you,” Michael said, without much heat.

I continued teasing him about brothels, which prompted a _very_ heated discussion about the morality of the average brothel, which went on for some time, even though we both agreed there should be a whores’ guild, and that the decision to become one should be based on free choice and not necessity. Michael and I are experts on arguing about things we agree on.

We were eventually distracted by the presence of surly-looking sheep in the road, and a couple of men desperately trying to herd them back into their broken enclosure, and I got to barter for a night in their barn and two meals while Michael put his animal gifts to good use.

In fact, I’d almost entirely forgotten about my approaching age-day, until it was the night before and we were kept from going into Fallon by a few of the sheriff’s men, who’d evidently heard about the unredeemed man travelling through.

“Dammit,” Michael said, not for the first time, as we rode back to a shallow cave we’d seen in the woods. “Cursed rumour-spreaders,” he muttered.

“What is up with you?” I asked, glancing askance at him.

He sighed and ruffled his hair with his fingers. “They have a _library_ ,” he said.

“So does Cedar Mills,” I pointed out. “We can get there within a fortnight.”

Michael ducked his head and mumbled something about not being able to get there by tomorrow, and then I caught on. “You wanted to bring me to a library for my age-day?” I guessed.

He brought Chant to a halt and dismounted, seizing the leads to walk him the rest of the way up the hill to the cave. I rolled my eyes and dismounted to follow. “Michael,” I said, “Michael, seriously, would you stop being dramatic and _listen_ —Michael!”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” he said, once we got the horses and the mutt under shelter. “But then my stupid _tattoos_ ruined it.”

I wrapped my hand around Michael’s wrist, intending to make him turn to face me, but he stopped and hissed in a breath. I paused. Then, I deliberately undid the ends of his sleeves and pushed them back, baring the overlapping circles there. I grabbed his other arm and did the same.

There was a moment where I wasn’t quite sure what to do. And then I figured out a way to combine my own vague, half-formed plans for my age day and our current situation. And, well, if it didn’t work out, I could bullshit my way out of this one. Maybe.

Slowly, deliberately, I lifted one of his wrists to my mouth and pressed a kiss to where the circles overlapped.

He exhaled shakily, but didn’t pull his hand away. I kissed his other wrist, and then murmured, “If you’re not interested, you should probably say so now, before I embarrass myself.”

“I don’t—I’ve never—I fear ‘twould be me who embarrassed himself,” he said.

“I haven’t either,” I said. “Do you want to? Because I do. You can call it my age-day present.”

“’Tis, uh, remarkably traditional.”

“You know me. Always such a stickler for tradition.”

“Oh, most definitely,” said Michael, and kissed me.


End file.
